The Angels of Tomorrow
by rhombus
Summary: Kyle/Oliver and family. To quote a poster from another board: "Babies! All babies! Covered in babies!" Sequel to No, You're a Schmoopy!


Co-written with** AzureHorizon**

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**The Angels of Tomorrow**

Oliver paced the hospital corridors, waiting for word, needing to see Kyle's face, to get good news. He'd never felt this way before. Never had to go through _this_ before. A life, so inexpressibly dear to him, hanging in the balance, dangling from a fraying thread, and if it fell, crashed to the ground, it would shatter his heart, too. It was too much. Pangs of regret shot through his heart, disobediently. They were unwelcome visitors to his illusory fear-bubble.

He contemplated going down to the chapel and praying, but changed his mind as soon as he took a step forward. Maybe he wasn't on the best terms with God right now.

He felt like he was in a different place, a different time. _No, this couldn't be here. Now. This is all just a really, really strange drug trip. Maybe somebody put something in my coffee? Yeah, coffee... real winner there, Oliver_.

With a grimace, he reminded himself never to put on his thinking cap when he was worried as hell.

_God_. Why was no one telling him what was going on?

Finally, Kyle emerged from the double doors and marched down the hallway.

"Come with me!" His eyes beamed radiance and ecstasy, and Oliver felt himself allured by them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes! Come with me!"

Oliver followed Kyle to the neonatal ward, their hands interlocked, and he almost felt like he was being dragged along by his one love. He didn't know why his legs were so heavy. He wanted this. More than anything. Kyle placed him before that ubiquitous glass window he'd seen on TV and in the movies and pointed to a tiny figure in front. "There."

The baby lay in a small, sterile crib, peacefully asleep, surrounded on all sides by identical cribs. Small wisps of brown hair sprung from its tiny pink head, and Oliver couldn't help but let his stress, his fear, be expunged from his being, as if the baby were a small, beautiful sponge.

He barely registered Kyle's voice as he spoke. "They had to do a Cesarean, but Britney's okay. Mrs. Jennings is with her. The baby's okay too. As ya can plainly see."

"He's so _pretty_," he blurted out, very much unwittingly. He turned to Kyle, feeling slightly guilty at his inability to filter his thoughts. "He almost looks... like a girl."

Kyle's lips curled up into a mischievous grin. "Well, that might just be 'cause she _is_ a girl."

The sound that went through Oliver's head was like a record scratching, loud enough to make him temporarily lose his balance, like the world was the DJ's turntable.

"But—but you said... after the last sonogram... another boy?" His mouth flapped open and closed like a torn tarp caught in a gale.

"Yeah, an' _you_ said you'd be there," Kyle cooed, waving his fingers at the sleeping baby. "So this was my little revenge."

Oliver gasped, despite himself. "You know it's not my fault Ivan Kipling and his bionic hand came back from the dead and started terrorizing the citizens of Llanview!" He could feel his face growing red as his arms flailed in front of him.

"Tell that to this precious little dew drop," Kyle replied, smiling broadly.

Under the light of that brilliant smile, Oliver relaxed slightly, his nerves fading into reticence. Kyle had gotten him all defensive and worked up, completely on purpose, even knowing how stressed out he was, just to watch him squirm. He clenched his jaw, wanting to get mad at him, but he knew that probably wasn't the best course of action. Not in front of all the babies. And not with that glorious smile on Kyle's face.

Who was he kidding? It was nigh impossible to want to get mad at that face.

"So..." He blew the air out of his cheeks and slapped his hands against his sides. "Names. I don't have any. I thought it was a boy. I wanted to name him Miles."

Kyle shrugged. "Could still work for a girl."

"Stop it. You always do this. This is important."

"Always? This is number two, buddy. Two does not equal always."

"Two out of two is the _exact_ definition of always, Mr. Smarty Doctor's Scrubs."

"Well," Kyle said, "I'm vetoing Mil_ey_ right now. There's not enough money in the world to get me to agree to that."

"Wasn't gonna suggest it. _Or_ attempt to bribe you."

Kyle bit his lip and glanced up at him with hooded eyes. He looked almost... scared.

"How about—an' tell me if you hate it—but I've always liked Holly." He tapped his fingers against his leg, a sure sign of his nerves. "Seein' as she's a little Christmas baby, it was either that or _Paper Garland_." He shrugged, the slightest grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I thought ya might prefer Holly."

"Is that your thing? Like stonefish?" Oliver chuckled in disbelief. "Naming babies after nature's most poisonous fiends?"

Kyle frowned. "I'd hardly call a plant a _fiend_, an' it's only the berries that make ya sick. It's not like I'm callin' her Holly Berry." Kyle's frown took the express train to Smirksville. "Though that is kinda cute, in a '90s-pop-culture-savvy kinda way."

"How did we get to this?" Oliver slashed his arms in front of him. "We've veered completely off-track!"

Kyle pouted. "_You_ never like my suggestions. Rocco... Stone... Holly..."

Oliver grinned and lifted his hand in a pooh-poohing gesture. "Pssh. You remember too much. And it's not _never_, technically, since—believe it or not—I actually like it this time." He stared through the glass at that delicate little face. His mouth fell open in delight as her own oval mouth stretched into a yawn. "Holly." He nodded decisively. "She looks like a Holly."

"Uh huh." Kyle peered at him with a dubious expression. "Well, I'll give ya some credit. She looks like a Miles, too. In case ya didn't notice—" He motioned toward all the babies behind the glass. "—babies all kinda look alike."

"That's not true! She's the only one that looks just like you."

"Hmm. That's funny." Kyle bit his lip and tapped his foot on the ground. Oliver studied Kyle's face, wondering if there was another sarcastic response being cooked up in his brain, his thoughts stirring the pot of the Kyle bouillabaisse. "Real funny," Kyle finally chirped. "Seein' as how that's the _wrong_ baby."

"_What?_ Why would you—?" Realization struck Oliver like a smack to the face from a jilted lover. Kyle had set a trap, and he'd fallen right into it, like a fool. He continued his tirade, regardless. "I only missed that one appointment, and it was for a really, really good cause! You are too cruel! Where is she?" He started to scan the babies, trying to find some piece of Kyle in one of them, practically pawing at the glass window. "Kyle, c'mon. Don't leave me hanging like this! This is _torture_." He paused when he felt Kyle's fingers on his knuckles.

"Hey, just kidding. She's ours." He squeezed Oliver's hand and brought it to his side. "Calm down. She's ours." He interlaced their fingers and leaned into Oliver's shoulder. "Plus, Mr. Observant," he whispered, "she's got the tag right there that says _Baby Lewis_."

Oliver read the name tag and couldn't help but tremble. Kyle was the only person in the cosmos who could rile him up, really shake his foundations, knock a few ornaments off his Christmas tree, so to speak. The man who held his hand right now was inimical to analysis, constantly evading prediction and prophecy. He had spent his whole life trying to read the book of Kyle Lewis, but the pages would fall out and disappear, or the writing would stop dead in its tracks, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. Oliver was instantly reminded of their life before this magical reunion—when he had spurned Kyle's affections, ending their relationship before it could really begin.

This time was different, but the pitfalls had changed. He had known the way through the labyrinth of this maze before, but only under the haze of whiskey and false promises. Now, he had no vices, no tools, and no tricks. The floors were unstable, the traps undetectable, yet the exit was clear and present. So he was relegated to being thrown to and fro by the whims of this beautiful man, letting him plot out the map and course of their relationship, and if he fell into a trap... it was Oliver's fault, no one else's. Briefly snapping out of his trance, he looked up to see Kyle reading his face, a slight hint of worry crafted into his beautiful, mesmerizing features. He had to say something, anything, to ease that worry.

"Oh. Well." Oliver nodded and pressed his lips together, trying to look and sound authoritarian. It was the only thing that could spare his wounded dignity a sad little death, a funeral that no one needed to attend. "I knew it all along. Obviously. I mean, she's got your eyes."

"Ollie." Kyle's brow creased in confusion. "Her eyes are closed."

"I know." He tilted his head and leaned in, sealing the conversation with a kiss. But he had to leave one last remark, to let Kyle know he didn't _always_ have him by the short hairs. He murmured into Kyle's mouth, "And so are yours."

Kyle broke off the kiss after a few moments to look into Oliver's eyes again, those amber irises doing their job, penetrating into his mind.

"Do you—are you... ready for this? I mean, I know we've talked about this, but now that we're here..." He paused, pulling in his lower lip. "I wasn't totally ready for Jacob, but... I don't wanna put you through anything you don't want. Don't want ya runnin' away ag'in."

"Isn't it a little late to be having this conversation? If I say no, are you gonna, what? Give the baby back?" He meant it as a joke, but the stricken look on Kyle's face let him know in no uncertain terms that he was, at this moment, the least funny person in the history of creation. Desperate to set things right, he brought Kyle's hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles, a placating gesture—an apology. "Kyle, I want this. I love you, and I want this."

The smile on Kyle's face put the sun to shame.

When Kyle and Oliver returned to their apartment late in the evening, little Holly Miles in hand, the weight of it all came crashing over them, but it no longer bogged either of them down. Oliver went to check in on Jacob, relieving Auntie Gigi of her babysitting duties with a quiet greeting, while Kyle cradled Holly in his arms, sitting on the couch. Thankfully, Jacob had remained calmly asleep in his race car bed, so Oliver casually walked back toward the living room. Before turning the corner, he peeked his head around, studying Kyle once more. Maybe this time he could figure out something, _anything_ about the man he loved so much. Would he be different, with a child that was a part of himself, and not just Oliver?

Gigi, apparently following him out of the room, plowed into his back, interrupting his thoughts.

"Woah. Why did we stop?"

Oliver whipped his head around and brought his finger to his lips. "Shh!" He turned back toward the living room and almost supposed that he caught Kyle rolling his eyes.

"You know," Gigi whispered, "as much as I love hanging out with you in dark hallways, I do have a family of my own to get back to."

Oliver moved aside and shooed her forward silently.

"Kyle," she said, the slightest chill dripping from her voice, as she walked toward the front door.

"See ya, G," he replied, adopting Jacob's nickname for his aunt. Kyle's gaze never wavered from the baby. "_O-li-ver_," he singsonged after the front door had closed. "Stop spyin' and get that perky ass o' yours out here an' stare at this face with me."

Oliver pursed his lips. "Don't curse in front of the kids!" he said in hushed tones, remaining firm in his snooping place.

"You are the cutest li'l baby I've ever seen," Kyle cooed, leaning forward and touching the girl's nose with his own. "And you don't know English yet, do you? No, you don't. So I can say any god damn curse words I want, can't I? Yeah, I can." His head bopped up and down, a goofy grin stretching his face. "It's awesome, right li'l one? Especially since your fuddy-duddy daddy's hiding behind a wall like a big ol' dorkapus."

Suddenly, Oliver had a vision of his future. Every step he made would be followed by a chorus of Kyle and little-mini-girl Kyle jokes and insults. But love, too. Of course.

He saw the baby look up at Kyle then, opening her eyes for the first time, revealing a color similar to Kyle's own, and within them Oliver could see a reflection of his man... even if it was just barely there, even if he was too far away to get a real proper look. He hoped that that similarity wouldn't mimic everything about Kyle, and not just the constant need to snark; there were skeletons in Kyle's closet that no one should have to burden, let alone a girl growing up with two gay dads. Yet, he remained hopeful, because even if the burden of two children could lead to issues between himself and Kyle at some point, their innocence and purity formed another bond between the two that would take the end of the world to break it apart. For that, he was grateful.

Oliver continued observing as Kyle's face melted into something he thought he hadn't seen before—complete and absolute adoration. He had caught variants of that face when Kyle looked at him, but that was different. This was pure, unfiltered fascination, and, casting aside any lingering doubts, Oliver knew this was the right choice. He felt certainty surging through every valve in his heart. He saw that same certainty painting the expression on Kyle's face, even as it warred with caution. So maybe there was a chink in Kyle's armor, a part of Kyle that he could fully understand and comprehend, and Oliver was all the happier for it. He took this chance to finally walk out into the living room, and Kyle looked up as he sat down next to him, his arm casually falling across his shoulders, the other reaching across his body to rest on Kyle's right leg.

"Finally," Kyle said, sparing a moment away from the baby to grin at him. His eyes shone like beautiful obsidian beads.

"Never seen you so happy before," Oliver murmured, contented and immeasurably comfortable where he sat.

Kyle squinted at him. "Yeah you have, even if this is... kinda different."

"Really? When?"

"The first time I held Jacob in my arms," Kyle said, his head falling onto Oliver's shoulder. He wriggled a hand out from underneath the perfect bundle in his arms and let the light from the ceiling fixture gleam off his wedding band. "And when you pledged to share your love with me, always."

Oliver squeezed his knee. There was a time when he couldn't see himself here, but that time had come and passed. The devils of yesterday became the angels of tomorrow, sloughed off as grace replaces sin, as this sacrosanct life replaced the sacrilege he committed. They had two baby angels to keep them together, and Oliver had come to a point where he believed that God would not hate him for this; God would not hate _them_ for this. No matter what his parents had drilled into his world, he had found true veracity in these children, in his man. _This_ was his faith, now. _This_ was what kept him grounded, away from the cold, bitter seas of ignorance, of self-hatred, of over-indulgence.

He felt stubble brush against his neck as Kyle turned his head to face him.

"_Everything_ about you an' me makes me deliriously happy. Ya know that, right?" Kyle tilted his head back, swiveling his chest slightly, and managed to find Oliver's lips with his own for a sweet, slippery smooch. They pulled apart when they heard the baby gurgle... wetly.

Upchucked milk trickled down the baby's chin and stained Kyle's sleeve.

"Ah, crud." He adjusted the baby in his arm, trying to wipe the goo off his shirt with a newly freed hand. He only managed to make more of a mess. "Uck," he groaned, flinging his gooped-up fingers through the air in front of him, unhelpfully sending droplets of spewed milk all over the rug. "Next time we're feeling all paternal, let's just get a dog, okay?"

Oliver couldn't help but smile. Even covered in barf, even acting just the tiniest bit bitchy toward an innocent newborn baby, Kyle was still the most perfect man he'd ever met in his life.

"You look so damn sexy right now," he said, not knowing where the thought had erupted from, or if the words had even come out of his mouth.

Kyle scowled at him and pulled Holly closer to his chest, as if protecting her. "Oliver! Don't curse in front of the baby!"

Oliver was scared. And excited. But mostly scared. With Jacob, he had missed so much. He didn't know what these first months were going to be like, even if he'd read every baby book in the library he could get his greedy hands on. He clutched the baby monitor so hard in his grip he was almost afraid it was going to snap into two pieces. Through the walls, he heard the plumbing shake as the shower sprang to life in the bathroom.

God, that sounded relaxing.

Keeping the baby monitor tight in his grip, he strode into the bathroom. Kyle's milk-stained shirt sat rumpled in the sink, looking eerily dejected for an inanimate article of clothing. He placed the monitor on the counter, triple-checking that it was on and working, then began to disrobe.

"Hey, you got all that milk off your hands yet?"

He heard Kyle chuckle through the opaque glass door. "Yeah. Thanks for checkin' up on me. I'm sure I would've forgotten otherwise. I knew there was a reason I kept you arou—"

Whatever sarcastic quip had been on the tip of Kyle's tongue was now swirling around in Oliver's mouth, as he had sidled stealthily into the stall and reintroduced Kyle's lips to his own. They kissed lazily, tiredly, comfortably. Finally, Kyle pulled back.

"As nice as this is, I did come in here with a purpose."

"Me too," Oliver agreed, his arms dangling over the backs of Kyle's shoulders.

Kyle pinched his sides playfully. "Ha-ha. I jus' wanna get cleaned up and get at least a few hours o' sleep before babygeddon puts an end to sleepin' forever."

"And I just wanna save water," Oliver teased. "It's environmentally friendly. Now, hand me the soap and lemme help you. You look too tired to do a good job. And I'm the one who has to share a bed with you."

Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing like melting marshmallows. "Seriously? Because, yeah. That'd be nice."

"Where's that little frou-frou of yours?"

"It's called a loofah, ya big dummyface. And it's right behind ya."

"You've been hanging out with Jacob too much." Oliver grabbed the frilly sponge, squeezed some soap onto it, and began painting swirly, bubbly designs all over Kyle's wet chest and shoulders.

"No such thing as too much. _Mmm_. That feels good."

"Turn around."

"Whatever you say, officer."

They took their time, wiping the wear of the day off of each others' skin under the warm, soothing stream of water. It felt amazing to be just _them_ again, just the two of them, and even if that thought sent a pang of guilt through Oliver's chest, he didn't want to take it back.

_Don't mess up this time, Oliver._

After thoroughly cleansing each other, and trying _not_ to get too frisky while doing so, they casually lounged together in bed. Oliver figured that Kyle hoped this meant some time to contentedly rest with his lover, but when you're dating an officer, a man who loves to take control of a situation, sex becomes something incorrigible, a desire that is never totally sated. Even if Oliver knew Kyle was exhausted, on a list of priorities, late-night lovin' was just slightly more important.

He lazily traced circles around Kyle's right pec, toying with the nipple a little, as he lay behind Kyle, snuggled in close. The closeness of their bodies made his lower half stir to life, the very obvious hardness digging into Kyle's lower back. When that happened, Oliver pinched the nipple lightly, causing Kyle to moan a little.

"Mm. We just got all cleaned up."

"We can just take another shower," Oliver countered, grinning.

"So much for saving water."

Oliver's hand started to travel lower, lightly massaging each abdominal muscle, stroking and petting. While he did this, he began to suck on the skin below Kyle's ear, going so far as to bite on the lobe, making Kyle moan even louder. The hand traveled southward, and before he even met boxers he came into contact with Kyle's arousal, bent upwards as if seeking out his hand like a missile. Instead of making any overt moves, he instead caressed Kyle, making him shudder. A light begging whimper erupted from Kyle's throat, which Oliver took as his signal to ramp up the heat. He wrapped his hand around Kyle, starting to pump him a little. By accident, or maybe by instinct, Kyle grinded backwards into Oliver's crotch, gasping and moaning, making Oliver's eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. As Oliver pumped Kyle faster, he could feel the point of climax coming, so soon, almost there—

A hiccuping sound emanated from the baby monitor.

Their ministrations ceased immediately, and the two seemed to be encased in ice, neither moving despite blood flowing to some very important regions. Oliver let go of Kyle's manhood, and Kyle turned around to face him. Neither man's face gave any clues as to what the next move should be, as if both of them were playing chess with any move leading to a stalemate. Before they could even begin to think of what to do, a raucous peal of crying erupted from Holly's baby monitor. Kyle buried his head in Oliver's chest, exhaling deeply. Oliver, too, was disappointed, but... this was another part of their life they'd have to get used to.

"I'll go check on her," Oliver said after a few moments, sighing deeply.

"She is gonna be trouble. I can already tell."

Oliver rolled his eyes as he rolled out of bed. He looked down at Kyle, whose face was etched with a little bit of sadness, mimicking his own.

"Just like her pop," he joked, reaching down to pet Kyle gently on the cheek.

Kyle groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. "A _dog_. Seriously. Next time. A dog."

Oliver took the next move, leaning down over Kyle on the bed, punctuating each word with a kiss. "I—" A prolonged liplock. "Love—" And yet another. "You." He ended the conversation with a final kiss, before turning toward the door. Resting his hand on the door jamb, he took one last glance at Kyle on the bed, who had watched him as he walked toward the hall. He could feel love in those eyes, so tangible and so pervasive that nothing could rend it, not even the fury of Hell itself.

A surge of confidence coursed through his veins. He wasn't scared anymore.


End file.
